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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669103">Tales of an Alcoholic Smuggler</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacearts/pseuds/Jacearts'>Jacearts</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>World of Warcraft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drabble Collection, Draenei, F/F, Half-Elf, Hurt/Comfort, Just a collection of gay drabbles tbh, Origional Characters, Some of this isn't directly connected to WoW because I'm expanding it into origional work, character backstories</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:35:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,805</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24669103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacearts/pseuds/Jacearts</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of drabbles about a couple of my long running World of Warcraft OCs. WoW is there purely as a setting and even that is vague in some of them as i've tried to develop them into origional content over time. As such, there's very little refference to canon WoW lore beyond some places and races.<br/>Mainly using this as a way to collect my writing, but if people are interested in them that 's awesome too! For refference, there may be one or two characters mentioned off-hand that do not belong to me but all those actually written within the story are mine (With the exception of Szae, who belongs to my partner and who i always ask permission to write), and any other names are also used with permission.</p><p>TLDR; Lots of character angst, gay hurt/comfort and a little bit of fluff. Each chapter is a stand-alone piece and probably a bit disjointed but will be posted in the order written.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Pretty early piece of writing just to establish a backstory.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The fist slammed into her skull with enough force to break skin, and she felt her already blackened eye start to trickle blood down her cheek. It left her dazed, and her knees would likely have buckled were it not for the two rather brawny thugs holding her by each arm. She really ought to be thankful for that, actually. No cuffs, not even a rope binding her hands. It wasn't as though her captor would have forgotten her discomfort around restraints, so it was really awfully polite of her. </p><p>“I warned you, Sundavar! I gave you <em> explicit </em> instructions! I told you to keep out of my turf, and here you are not even a month later!”</p><p>Sunny winced, and not entirely from her growing number of injuries. “Ouch. Full name, huh? You really must be pi-” She was cut off by the fist again, this time accompanied by the sickening crunch of a broken nose. Well, that was just rude.</p><p>The woman in front of her clucked her tongue in distaste. She looked elderly, perhaps late 50s, her steely gray hair tied back in a tight, no nonsense bun. Her skin was looking a little pale and sickly from the poor Stormwind climate. Sunny had told her she should have moved years ago. At least Kalimdor had sunlight. She was dressed in layers, pale and slightly grubby  shawls hanging from her shoulders in waves as she leaned on a simple walking stick. In all, she was the last person one would expect to be behind one of the most powerful  criminal gangs in Alliance territories.</p><p>The only identifying mark was the faded tattoo sitting on her cheek, just below her left eye. Nothing fancy, just a few interlocking chevrons. The exact same pattern that had marked Sunny as well, before she had cut the entire layer of skin off. Only way to be sure with enchanted tracking ink. Of course, it was probably less of an issue when you were running the organisation that put it on you.</p><p>The woman watched Sunny silently for a moment as she bled all over the floor. Probably why they did all their dirty work in a wine cellar. Easier to explain the stains. After a pause, she nodded to her two goons. "Drop her. Wait outside."</p><p>Goon number 2, the punchy one, actually hesitated. "Uhh, Miss Ariaht? Are...is that safe? She's one of <em> them </em>." </p><p>Sunny snorted and winced at the resulting stab of pain. "Oh shit. Questionin' authority. You must be new. Ari, baby, where you findin' these- fuck!" This one was a backhanded slap. Alright, that one she probably deserved.</p><p>Ariaht shot the man a venomous glare. "You think me incapable of defending myself against some beaten half-breed?" Ahh, there it was. She had been wondering when the racism was going to kick in. The barb in her voice seemed to do the trick though, and Goons one and two, albeit reluctantly, let her go.</p><p>To her credit, she managed to stay standing the whole minute it took them to close the door. </p><p> </p><p>As her shaking legs finally gave out, Ariaht continued to watch silently, just long enough to make sure her thugs were out of earshot. And then she strode across the room and slapped her in the face.</p><p>"Oww...fucking <em> hell </em> Ari!" she moaned, slumping on the ground "I get keepin' up appearances but dumb 'n dumber are gone!"</p><p>"You <em> idiot </em>." Ariaht hissed, crouching down next to the beaten woman. "You know damn well why I told you to stay away. You're lucky it was my men than caught you and not the city guard!"</p><p>Sunny waved a hand and started to blow air through her mouth, but only ended up spitting blood. Gods, those arseholes were rough. "Pfff...naaaah...you know me hon. Guards are easy, 'nough bribe money an'-"</p><p>"No no no no you don't understand, Sunny!" Ariaht sighed and covered her face with a hand. "It's getting too dangerous for you to play both sides, certainly in the capital. You saw already how eager every street urchin is to kill their first Horde spy! And Light knows why but I still care about you enough to not wish you dead." her voice grew quiet, seeped in bitterness "Even though you abandoned me."</p><p>Sunny groaned. "Ari, you know I…" but she stopped. The mask she has been wearing all through the beatings dropped, and the fight left her. Ariaht must have sensed her deflate, because she sighed and settled down on the floor next to her. For the first time that evening, their was sadness rather than anger in her eyes.</p><p>"I know. And I <em> do </em> understand why. It had to have hurt, watching the people you loved age around you…" </p><p>Sunny gave another small groan and slumped onto her back. "Sure, rub it in…" she muttered, tilting her head to spit up the blood currently running down her throat. And there it was. The biggest thing standing between her and genuine commitment. Sure, there were dozens of species in Azeroth, many with far longer or shorter lives than her. She should know, she'd had dalliances with a fair number of them. But she could never avoid thinking about how someone would outlive the other. There were other issues, of course. Trust was the biggy. But it was the aging that had stopped her from telling Ariaht when she left. Even back then, she had started to notice it and dreaded the pain involved. Like an idiot, she had thought that disappearing would hurt her former lover less. But well, here they were.</p><p>Presently she was jolted out of semi-unconsciousness by being made fully aware of every ache in her body, as an elderly woman dragged her to her feet. "I don't know why you do this to yourself, love. But you have to understand, this has to be the last time." Sunny gathered her senses just enough to meet her eyes. “This has to be the last time you come home.”</p><hr/><p>3 hours later, she was slumped in a cot on board a boat for Ratchet. She was dotted with bandages, a half empty rum bottle in hand and another 3 lying in close proximity. Things had gone better than expected in the end, or worse as the case may be. Why <em> did </em>she do it to herself? That question has been circling in her mind as she left, hauled out a secret back door hand handed off to some well paid dock workers. As far as the local thugs were concerned, their boss had dealt with her remains in the usual way. Going back any time in the next, oh, decade or so, would undermine Ariaht’s authority. She might be pissed, but she didnt want to risk her old flame actually coming to harm.</p><p>The truth was, she wasn’t even sure. She had no reason to go to Stormwind, no open business contracts that couldn’t be handled elsewhere. Perhaps she just wanted to punish herself. She had been feeling like shit lately, and sure, she had new friends in Orgimmar thanks to Drennic, Linnaria and crew, but what did that matter? That had known her what, two months? Three? They might offer trust now, but that wouldn’t last. It never did. Why not go and get herself killed before they turn on her too, huh?</p><p>She scowled and downed the last of her booze, hissing as it burned the still open wounds covering her face. Deep down, she knew that wasn’t true. People cared about her. She was good at making friends,  but even better at losing them. A little bit of social sabotage to make sure the mental and physical pain balanced each other out. </p><p>A reedy goblin voice sounded from the deck, announcing their imminent return to neautral territories. With a groan, she hauled herself unsteadily to her feet, lurching towards the stairs. The Tail was waiting with plenty of bottles for her to crawl into, and it was going to be a <em> long </em>night.</p><p>On a typical night, something about Orgimmar's favourite dive bar would be perfect for calming her down. The buzz of harsh voices and the press of activity served as a perfect distraction for a wandering mind, particularly when a loss of focus could often also mean the loss of one's coin purse. It wasn't working tonight, though. </p><p>She sat away from her usual spot against the bar, choosing instead to slump in the darkness beneath one of the staircases. A trademark cigar sat in the corner of her mouth and a bottle of dark whiskey in her hand, far from her first but she had lost count by this point. The boisterous locals were surprisingly avoiding her for the most part, most likely because she was beneath their notice. She vaguely recalled being told once that her name meant 'shadow' in some archaic elvish; always eager to distance herself from her paternal heritage, it brought her no end of joy how ironic her nickname was. Right now though, shadow sounded about right.</p><p>She closed her eyes, desperately failing to unsee the memories swirling at the  forefront of her mind. Seeing Ariaht always dredged up some unpleasantness and the alcohol was doing a poor job or drowning it. Unthinking, she rubbed almost compulsively at her wrist. Hidden beneath her ever-present bracers, mottled scars twisted their way right around each wrist. They were faded now, but the ugly bumpiness of the healed skin around them showed how deep they had been. Right now, she wasn’t sitting in some dingy orcish bar. She was in The Cell.</p><p> </p><p>That was all anyone ever called it. An unwashed, unlit stone cellar buried in one of the dock warehouses. It was where her former boss had conducted all of his...more <em> unsavoury </em> practices. Nothing but bare stone and hooks to fasten chains from. One such chain holding each arm aloft. She could still remember the cuffs cutting into her flesh, every small move, hell every <em> heartbeat </em>dragging the icy metal over her nerves. Oddly the pain isn’t what stuck with her, it was the cold. The maddening scrape as the metal exposed bone. Her back was no better, little more than an open wound. Angry, shredded skin weeping blood down her legs, torn open by furious lashes from her oh so delightful owner.</p><p>She had earned it, of course. This was just after her first escape attempt, one that had gone badly wrong and ended with her beaten to within an inch of life. It was strange, so much information was jumbled or straight up missing from her mind; how long had she dangled there, naked and bleeding? It couldn’t have been more than a day or two, since she hadn’t died from the blood loss or dehydration, but it had felt like weeks; How had she even escaped? That was almost entirely a mystery. Markus, her closest friend, he had somehow broken her and smuggled her out of the city, but to this day she had no idea how. And as he had died a few weeks go, she would never find out. </p><p>And yet, some tiny details would never leave her. The icy bite of the cuffs, of course. The rotten sea stink of the room (to this day she still couldn’t eat fish). The sound of chains creaking and clinking. Her tormentor had left deeper scars than the ones on her skin.</p><p>All she could really remember was the aftermath. Waking up in Booty Bay, her entire body on fire. A few days spent in fitful rest, and then the deepest, hottest rage she had ever experienced, before or since. Somehow, body still broken, she had dragged herself back to the city, back to the docks, and had murdered every former comrade that stood in her way. She had no idea how she’d managed it. But she could, very viscerally, recall stabbing the pig in his neck. Stabbing repeatedly in still flesh of his chest, tears streaming down her face as she desperately made sure he was dead. Someone had dragged her off, perhaps Ariaht? Who knows. But somehow, she had managed to get in, get out, and stay alive. She had taken the first boat out and ended up back in the bay, laying low while the exhaustion and injury ran its course. The fever alone had lasted over a week.</p><p> </p><p>She zoned back to reality just enough to taste the blood and bile building in her throat. Pain wasn’t so hard to endure anymore, after that. After all, she had made it through worse, right? She downed the rest of her bottle, barely wincing as it burned at her bruised lips and throat. Really, she had been extraordinarily lucky; not only had she survived, but she had recovered with relatively minor nerve damage. Her fingers and thumbs still worked, which had honestly been a surprise given the state her wrists had been in. She wasn’t quite as dexterous as she had been, there was this one coin trick she had never been able to replicate. But she could write, she could pick locks, she still had feeling. Her right thumb tended to be a little stiff, and cold or wet weather made her joints ache like hell, but really, small prices to pay.</p><p>In truth, it wasn’t seeing Ariaht that brought the memories back. That would suggest they ever left. But she fought constantly to bury them and, well, recently they were creeping back up again. She wondered, vaguely, if that Sha crap was infectious, but eventually discounted it. Drunk as she was, she would have noticed if she was spitting black goo. No, this was just some good old fashioned depression, with a healthy dose of trauma for spice. And the only cure she knew was drinking herself into oblivion.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Boundaries Are a Tricky Thing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There are some nights where a person’s very presence in a room seems to drain some of the light and cheerfulness from it, often not through their intent but simply so strong is their mood. Sundavar was particularly susceptible to them of late, a fact made even more obvious to her by the fact she was apparently on a full name basis with herself. Fucking hell. She was only </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sundavar </span>
  </em>
  <span>when she was really pissed at herself. Her own personal storm cloud didn’t really have any source either. Indeed, the fact that she should have been enjoying herself was a sickening lump in her throat that she was doing her best to burn out with strong rum. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>like</span>
  </em>
  <span> rum.</span>
</p>
<p><span>The rest of the tavern was jumping in willful spite of her, loud and rowdy and bright. Booty Bay could be accused of many things but nothing made for a good night out quite the same as a room packed with drunken pirates. A band sat at one corner opposite the bar and featured a particularly enthusiastic gnome fiddler, filling the ramshackle building with upbeat sea shanties; a trio of trolls were dancing shirtless on one of the tables and from her seat up on the balcony she could hear and feel rather than see a scuffle breaking out between an orc and a goblin. This was the sort of place she normally felt most at home, packed full of outcasts and scoundrels. The sort of place she didn’t stand out. </span><span><br/></span> <span>And she had company, too. Next to her at the table, a vaguely ill-looking but incredibly stubborn draenei stared down an increasingly worried dwarf. A bottle of vodka sat between them, about a quarter left, a line of empty shotglasses stacked upturned further dividing them from the pouch of gold at the centre of the table. She half-watched as Szae raised one of the few remaining full glasses, hesitated a moment as she felt the fire touch her lips, and then downed it’s contents smoothly, slamming the glass back to the table in a single fluid move. </span></p>
<p>
  <span>She hadn’t really been following the competition for a while now. Frankly, she had known even calling it a “competition” had been misleading from the start. Szae was very good at masking her exact level of inebriation; she had hooked in this poor sod by playing up the drunk party girl act and shaking her hips a little and as predicted she was walking away with some gold and a free bottle of booze. It never failed to impress Sunny just how much she was apparently capable of drinking, one of the few people she had met who could probably outdrink her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But that made it a little strange for her. She wasn’t used to being on the outside of this, looking in. She watched Szae’s movements, still characteristically fluid but slowed and exaggerated as though underwater. The way her head lolled as she slurred some condolence and blew a kiss to the departing, defeated dwarf. She kept circling the thought in her head that, this was normal. This was part of Szae’s daily life. Hell, this was the sort of thing that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> did on a daily basis too. So...why was it bothering her?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You know why.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She tried not to think about it. She still wasn’t sure what Szae’s abilities were or how they worked, but she knew she used alcohol as a way of controlling them. She knew that when Szae began to lose herself, she could feel something dark and oily slithering at the back of her mind. She had let it in once, and she didn’t regret that; whatever that was and whatever it could do, she had been willing to trust Szae implicitly; but it was no less disconcerting to feel like a stranger was sharing her mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Archenon poros, ekliein” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice jolted her out of her own head and back to reality. Szae was scooping the bag of coin towards her with a small smile, pouring a final shot for both herself and Sunny before corking the bottle and grabbing it too. “Perhaps one day men will learn not to underestimate me. Fortunately today is not then.” Her eyes twinkle as she gestures for Sunny to take her glass. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not top shelf, but it’s not swill either. The aftertaste stuck in her throat and made her grimace. She’s not feeling it tonight, and Szae can tell. The other woman shifted her chair a little closer and leaned in to a half-embrace. A hand found her thigh as lips ghosted over her cheek, followed by the sting of vodka on breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is wrong, my Sunlight? You are not very bright tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be a weird fuckin’ night if the sun was out,” she muttered, noting the sigh of displeasure. Szae was right. She was no fun tonight. “Sorry” she added, “I’m just...tired. I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then perhaps I help you to rest.” Szae was practically on her lap now, nuzzling and nipping at her ear. It actually made her heart sink a little, how earnestly the draenei wanted her in spite of how little effort she was making. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She deserves better than this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought. And then, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps” she hummed before meeting Szae’s lips, desperately hoping the kiss will ignite something. And was partly successful, she supposed. She wanted to make Szae happy, if nothing else. Gradually, she eased her to her feet. “C’mon. I got a place here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> honoured,” she purred, “Invited back to your bed? I do not believe I have seen anything of yours before.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you ain’t been missin’ much.” she grumbles in response. She didn’t even have any true place of residence, just  a dozen safe houses and bolt-holes carefully maintained in trade towns. Most of which had never seen visitors though, so it was a gesture all the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Szae’s state of inebriation became more and more obvious as they left the tavern, wandering arm in arm through the rickity side-streets of Booty Bay. At least, they started arm in arm. Very quickly Sunny was supporting Szae’s waist and practically holding the other woman up, not fully trusting her not to stumble into the sea. She was murmuring to herself the whole time, sometimes in draenic, sometimes words that sounded too different and alien even for that. She found herself staring at her face whenever a flickering torch caught it or the moonlight danced across her, and she felt a sharp twinge of something deep. There was more than just chemistry between them at this point, reluctant as Sunny was to admit. Because despite their words, there was nothing sexual here. At this moment, all she wanted was to see a woman she loved safely to rest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And you damn well better believe she was pretending she hadn’t thought about the L word.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She picked her way carefully through dark alleys, one hand brushing the walls for something. A few of the town’s seedier residents shot them glares but Sunny still had enough of a name here to avoid any real trouble. Eventually she found what she’s looking for; fingers brushing some small engravings on the wall. Is that thieves’ cant? And she slipped down one final corner, gently guiding Szae into an alcove while she fumbled with the door. The lock was essentially a formality, and she didn’t even have the key. She just picked it and shouldered the door open.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The interior was small and cramped, ceiling low enough that they both had to duck their heads. A flick of a match and a candle baths what is somewhere between a workshop and a bedroom in soft light. The bed in the corner looks old, used, but dressed in sheets that were fresh the last time anyone was in here, at least. Some shelves are stacked with assorted bottles and boxes, preserved foods mostly. A basic stove in one corner of the room and a large table in the centre, only one chair, the surface cluttered with scraps of paper, knives, spent cigars, a dismantled pistol. In one corner, a beaten leather instrument case lies on the floor. The whole place is somehow so distinctively </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sunny</span>
  </em>
  <span>, at once utilitarian but dotted with her vices.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They are barely through the door before Szae is upon her. Bodies pressed together, weight forcing her back to the wall. Szae’s mouth is against hers, hungry, kisses stolen like gasps of air from the drowning. Clawed hands ran down her sides, rapidly peeling away clothes that suddenly felt so immaterial. It was such a powerful, primal moment that Sunny could do nothing to resist until her brain started to catch up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Babe…” she gasped, trying to form words around the rush of desire she was fighting to resist (and around Szae’s selfish lips) “Not...not now. You’re not…” It was no use. She didn’t know what she wanted to say. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re drunk. It wouldn’t be fair. I don’t want to take advantage. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It seemed like a flimsy excuse, given the boundaries and consents they had already set for each other, but her mind was made up. She would never risk hurting Szae.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a resigned sigh, she gently pushed Szae off and moved to guide her to the bed. “Later, sweet-thing. C’mon. We can wait-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shadow uncoiled in her mind. Sickening tendrils wrapping around her limbs. Suddenly she was pinned against the wall again, but not by Szae...Szae was </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, sure, but slumped against her in an almost dead weight. It felt like something was holding her in place, something was chaining her-</span>
</p>
<p><span>The panic started to rise. She couldn’t move her arms. She looked to her wrists and saw them free, but they didn’t </span><em><span>feel</span></em><span> free. She couldn’t be sure what was happening, couldn’t tell if the presence in her mind was still exclusively Szae and she was simply too distracted to pick up the change in her mood, or if it was something </span><em><span>else</span></em><span>, something hungrier. She could feel Szae languidly kissing along her collarbone but no. no no no this was wrong she needed to be let go </span><em><span>let me go</span></em> <em><span>LET ME GO</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>There is a heartbeat. A single, panic sharp beat, where nothing happens. But then Szae feels it. Her eyes widened in horror and the presence vanished. Sunny’s arms shot up, flailing at nothing for a second before clawing at the wall behind her as they both slump down to the floor against it. She’s panting, all the colour drained from her face. For a second she had been back in The Room with chains around her wrists and her hands instinctively clutch at them over her bracers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling the terror reverberate through her mind had been enough to sober Szae up if only a little. She crouched by Sunny, nails digging into her shoulders but at the same time looking ready to bolt. Her expression was carefully neutral but Sunny saw the guilt behind it and cursed herself internally.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ein te neomeno.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I am so sorry.” Flat, emotionless. Fuck. She had fucked this up. She couldn’t lose Szae over a fucking panic attack. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she gasped, locking eyes with her and reaching up to grab her hand before she could snatch it away. “I’m okay. It’s okay.” She knew she didn’t sound convincing, but she hoped that Szae would be able to hear the plea underneath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s okay. Don’t leave me right now. It will be okay.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>More was said, eventually. She tried to put into words visions she knew Szae had seen in her mind already. Tried to articulate her fear of ever being bound again. It was difficult, and somewhat redundant, but it helped. It put context to feelings. It was a long night but, already, they seemed to have a feel for each other. So when Szae awoke the next morning to an empty bed, worries and analytical mind aside she knew she hadn’t lost anything. The familiar smell of cigar smoke lingered throughout the room and, drifting in from the open door, an equally smoky voice and the soft thrum of acoustic strings. Well. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was new.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Rough Days</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Pretty sure this is the point I started trying to work in origional content. At one point Sunny speaks in her native language which in WoW would be Common, and Szae would also understand it just fine. Here, it's Kirkhali. Just go with it it adds to the suffering <br/>This is also a little disjointed from the last one. Can't seem to settle on how much of her past Sunny's shared.<br/>Why YES writing about Sunny's trauma IS my favourite passtime, why do you ask,,</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The room was dark, the only light coming from the dying fireplace. It’s shadows danced across the walls and taunted her, crawling beasts that seemed entirely too literal to her. She half-stumbled, carpet catching under her feet and would have fallen were it not for the hands around her waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have you, my heart, I have you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The soft, smoky voice was little comfort. All it did was drive the nail in a little deeper. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You shouldn’t have to be carrying me.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She must have grunted something in response, because Szae was murmuring in her ear again “Shh, shh now. Enough of that. You need to rest now.” Her words were soft, but had that rigid edge they always seemed to. A quiet command to them that Sunny loved. It was almost enough to cut through her drunken angst. Almost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lurched, half-falling again but this time guided into that beaten old sofa Szae kept by the fireside. She could taste bile in the back of her mouth and fought the urge to spit directly into the flames. Angry as she was, it wasn’t fair to take her foul mood out on her love, but that wouldn't stop the bitter voices in her head from berating her for even thinking so. “Should’a just left me,” she found herself slurring, “Would’a found my way home. Don’t...shouldn’t see me like this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was met only with an irrate tutting, and she half-expected Szae to smack her upside the head. Or maybe she just wished that she would. She wanted to hurt right now. Real pain made the pain in her heart easier to process. She wanted to punch another wall but Szae was still holding her left arm close, cradling a likely broken fist. There was silence for a few moments, and she glanced over to see her examining the wound. “You are a fool, Sundavar. For so many reasons. The last thing I am going to do is leave you to your thoughts right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sunny winced as her hand was dropped unceremoniously into her lap, the other woman rising and vanishing into her small kitchen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Full name, huh. Yeah, I deserve that.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her bruised fingers tightened, sending a calming stab of pain up her arm. It wasn’t just self depreciation this time, it had been a truly reckless thing to go back into that bar, the way she was feeling. Encountering an ex girlfriend would be uncomfortable for anyone, but seeing someone she had loved? So  happy, so relaxed in the arms of another, it had just snapped something inside her. Some fire inside her had gone out and she’d wanted nothing more than to drown the embers in enough alcohol to topple an orc. Truth be told, if Szae hadn’t ran into her, she’d probably be puking her guts out in a gutter right now. Or punching something a lot less forgiving than a wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Presently, she returned from the kitchen with a bowl of warm water, some towels, a few jars. Sunny wasn’t really paying attention. She didn’t look up as the sofa dipped next to her, or as her hand was gripped with just a touch more force than necessary. She just sat, eyes closed, silently insulting herself. Until a hand closed around her wrist.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Szae had only meant to pull her hand closer of course, to better look at it. But in that second her heart suddenly slammed in her chest, her eyes widened and nostrils flared. Maybe it was her drunken haze, but for that split second her touch was The Cuff biting around her wrist again. She cried out, snatching her hand away and curling in on herself like a wounded animal. She must have blacked out if only for a moment because the next thing she was aware of was the delicate spice of Szae’s perfume, the impossibly delicate scratch of taloned fingers brushing her hair, and the soft crooning of some lullaby in her ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked, once, twice. And then straightened, realising that she was slumped over Szae’s lap. “You are with me again now, yes?” t</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was...something, in Szae’s voice. A tone she hadn’t heard before and couldn’t place. The woman kept her emotions so tightly guarded, was this worry? She simply nodded dumbly, forcing herself out of the warm embrace. “I...fuck. I’m sorry, I didn’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her words were cut off with a shake of the head, and a gentle hand on her shoulder. No, not gentle...cautious. “No more sorrys now, Sunlight. It was my mistake. You will let me look at your hand now?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That hard edge back. That was what she needed now, a command. The heat of the adrenaline was starting to fade along with the pain in her chest, being replaced by the different but no less burning embers of shame, embarrassment. Normally it didn’t hit her as hard as that. She hated her wrists being touched, sure, but it wasn’t normally as...</span>
  <em>
    <span>viceral</span>
  </em>
  <span> as that. Obediently, she returned her wounded hand and Szae began to delicately tend to it, now much more careful of where she touched.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can tell me, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sunny just blinked again. Her thoughts felt like they were coated in oil, slipping and sliding out of her grasp as she tried to focus. The soft light of Szae’s eyes seemed to help, so she met her gaze. “Tell you? Ab- what, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She almost felt like laughing at that. “Gods. no. You don’t...that...it’s nothin’. Ain’t important. Just...just ignore it. Ignore m-” She broke off and hissed in pain as Szae poured some sort of ointment onto  her grazed knuckles, though from the way her eyes tightened it hasn’t been intentional. It helped cut through the fog, though. “I just...I lose focus sometimes, yeah? I’m...fuck, I’m drunk. It’s nothin’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is not nothing!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time the venom in her voice surprised her. Her eyes had gone hard again, more anger behind them than Sunny had ever seen. “You are suffering! It is obvious, and I cannot do anything to help if you try to hide it from me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Szae rose again, storming to the other side of the room but making no move to leave. She seemed to cling to herself, her shoulders shaking and after an embarrassingly long moment Sunny realised she was crying. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now look what you fucking did!</span>
  </em>
  <span> Much too sluggishly, she hauled herself out of the chair, the pain already dulling to a numb ache. Nerve damage had its advantages, she supposed. She hesitated, suddenly deeply unsure whether she should touch the other woman. Unsure if she </span>
  <em>
    <span>deserved </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. For the briefest of glances her eyes even flicked to the door, and had she been even remotely more sober she would likely have fled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As it was, she managed to resist the urge to run and hurt some more. Instead she rested her good hand on the shoulder of the woman she, only now realised, she was rapidly falling for, and was surprised to find her arm tugged into an awkward embrace. The movement forced her to step closer, to press herself into Szae’s back and lean into her for balance. She was still facing away, her face obscured by a curtain of hair and the curve of a horn, but Sunny could hear the hitch in her breath as she fought to control her emotions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” She finally said softly, “I know you. I know you feel undeserving of care. But you are not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Szae…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. What do I even say?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “I...</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t even know me.” She said at last, “I don’t...I feel like I lose more an’ more of myself every godsdamned day! You’ve known me what, a few months? How can...how…” she sobbed, and then gave a small gasp of surprise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When did I start crying? I don’t cry. I just don’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even more surprisingly, Szae didn’t pull away. Instead she turned around, and Sunny caught a flash of dark streaked eyes before her face was buried against her shoulder. All she could think was, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you arse. You made her makeup run.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She felt those pointed fingers bunching in the back of her shirt as Szae choked back a sob of her own, and all she could do in response was hold her. Her injured hand hung useless to one side, but the other gripped Szae as though her very essence somehow depended on not letting her go. The urgency of it scared her more than her own mistakes, finally enough to cut through the haze of self-loathing that seemed to seep into her bones.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You idiot…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whisper was almost enough to make her laugh again. She could hear the smile on Szae’s lips, wry as it may have been. “I know you because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> you. You are not the only one with demons, Sunlight.” She could feel her fingers pressing into her back now, tracing over the ridges of her scars. It made her think of their first night together, one similarly steeped in booze and regret that had been banished by a familiar ember of...something. Familiarity? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you.” she repeated, finally pulling back enough to meet her eyes. Dark, deep set, quick to hide behind a smile but always carrying a vague spark of pain in them. “You are not alone, anymore. You do not have to be, are not </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be. When will you learn that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.” The words came after a long, heavy silence, and this time Szae did not shush her. In silent, mutual agreement, they both drifted back to the sofa and sat, Sunny allowing her to tenderly bandage her hand with the intensity of a master craftsman finishing a project. When she was finished, she wordlessly lifted her arm (at the bicep, though. She was ever so careful to avoid her wrist.) and pressed herself once more into the crook of her shoulder. Sunny was suddenly afraid to break the silent, afraid that speaking would shatter the small moment of peace that had somehow been birthed. But at the same time, she needed to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I...I still feel them. The scars. I see it happening again, sometimes.” The words came slowly and thickly at first, but it felt like breaching a floodgate. “The ones...my back, they don’t...people can see them and touch them like it’s nothin’, but someone grabs my wrist and it feels like I’m bein’ cuffed again. Hangin’ there in that </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucking</span>
  </em>
  <span> room. An’ worse, I feel like I’m meant to be. I feel like I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to die in there. So now anytime somethin’ good comes along like...like you...I feel like I don’t deserve it. Like I’m just gonna lose it. An’ because o’ that, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>lose it. Like I lost Monty. Because it’s just-! It’s all still </span>
  <em>
    <span>there,</span>
  </em>
  <span> in my fuckin’ head!” By the end she was almost yelling, tears streaming unwanted from her eyes. “I feel like somethin’ broke inside me, an’ I can’t find it to fix it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Szae just listened, those silver eyes fixed intently on hers even as she doggedly avoided meeting them. When she felt like no more words would come, she simply cried wordlessly, and the pain seemed to slip out just a little. Now it was her turn to be cradled in Szae’s arms. It felt...cathartic. Like tearing open a scab and letting poison spill out. And through it all Szae just held her, even as she started murmuring almost incoherently in the language of her hometown, one she knew Szae couldn’t begin to follow. And because of that, she finally opened up. “I think I love you.” She blurted, safe behind the veil of Kirkhali, “I think I love you and that scares me so fuckin’ much. Because I don’t want another reason to hurt when I lose you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At long last, the flood of words and feelings finally dried up. Szae was so still and silent that Sunny wondered if she had fallen asleep, but at last she spoke up “I am so proud of you, my Sunlight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked, again that dumb, disbelieving stare. No one had said that to her in as long as she could remember, and that was a long, long time. “You let me in.” she clarified, hands stroking through her hair again in a motion that was more soothing than it had any right to be. “You say you are broken. Maybe you are. I am too. So maybe, we can help each other, hmm?” This last was said with a faint smile, a ray of light so beautiful that Sunny thought she might cry again. That simply wouldn’t do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sat up, and pressed her lips against Szae’s. Long, soft, uncharacteristically chaste, and more clear than any words could have been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thank you.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Something Bright, For Once</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I promised fluff eventually!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A cool breeze rustled the thin curtains, not cold enough to be unpleasant, but just enough to make Sunny tug the blanket back over her shoulder. She wasn’t awake yet, not really. Just conscious enough to feel the chill and the soft movement next to her. Gradually, she became aware of the arm snaked around her waist. Her eyes fluttered open, took in the still shape next to her, and then closed again.<br/>	And then she blinked. Was she awake? This didn’t feel like a dream, but where was the tell-tale stab of fear that usually accompanied wakefulness?It just...wasn’t there. No rush of vertigo, no brief certainty that she was lost. She was simply...awake, and calm, and for a moment she just lay there marveling at that. Somehow she actually felt safe, and that was damn near miraculous.</p>
<p>	Rolling slightly,  she leaned in to the still sleeping figure of Szae. She recalled, dimly, that it was a saturday; Szae had nowhere to be today, no classes to rush off to and no work for hours yet. They had the entire day to themselves and for that smallest of snapshots, the world seemed right. <br/>	Sunny couldn’t help but stare, even now. Even here, lying with her face buried in a pillow, the draenei woman just looked so...perfect. It was rare to see her so at ease, guard completely let down. Honestly that was one of the things that she found so alluring, that same kindred anxiety hidden behind a mask that they both shared. And it filled her with such joy, such unabashed pride, that she alone got to see behind it once in a while. She wondered if Szae felt the same way.<br/>	Unable to help herself, she reached up and ever so lightly brushed a finger through Szae’s hair, then down along the curve of her horn. She would never understand why so many people she spoke to found it odd that she would be so enraptured by something like that, the delicate strength of a horn, the glint of a fang, the delicious heat of a claw dragged along skin. People could be so boring. </p>
<p>	Szae stirred, a heavy breath and the smallest of groans as she nuzzled her way closer to Sunny’s chest. “Hey you,” she murmured softly, letting her hand trail lightly over her cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”<br/>“Then don’t.” came the gruff reply, the woman waking just enough to close what little gap had formed between them in their sleep. Hot skin pressed against her beneath the covers, and she couldn’t stop a big, stupid grin as Szae buried her face in her breasts. Not even lustfully, not now. Right now it was just warmth, and softness, and the rightness of it made her feel like she was glowing.<br/>	She lay there, smiling to herself and watching the slow rise and fall of Szae’s breaths, until her partner groaned into her chest. “You are staring again.”<br/>“Yeah? I thought you liked it when I stared.” This was met with another grunt, and a gentle poke at her side that made her twitch. “I do. When i am awake. Now feels like....stealing.” <br/>She chuckled at that, soft and quiet. “Stealing?”<br/>“I cannot make you mine when I am not awake. Is stealing.”<br/>	Sunny leaned down, pressing a small kiss on the edge of her ear. “Mhmm....an’ why can’t I make you mine for a bit then, hmm?” Szae didn’t seem to have an adequate response for that, just gave a low growl in that special kind of soft irritation that only comes when you want to sleep, and are being pestered by someone you love too much to be annoyed at. She shifted again, one leg sliding around Sunny’s waist while her hands knotted around her back. The possessiveness in the act made her heart flutter, and she resumed brushing her fingers slowly through her hair. “Go back to sleep, starlight. We have all the time in the world.”<br/>	She heard a hum of contentment, felt a tail coiling around her thigh, and sighed softly to herself, smile still painted across her lips. She couldn’t remember a time she had felt this safe, this wanted. She wanted to enjoy every second.</p>
<p>	It was some time before they woke again. Sunny hadn’t truly fallen asleep again, just dozed and soaked in the warmth of the body pressed around her. She was fully awake as Szae began to stir, listening as her breath hitched ever so slightly and feeling her heartbeat a little faster against her chest. Even now though, she seemed so reluctant to actually wake.<br/>	Sunny did her best to be patient, but the fact was, her mind was wandering. She hadn’t even noticed that she was rubbing Szae’s back until she heard another huff of frustration from her chest “You are awake, aren’t you.”<br/>	It wasn't a question, it was a rather grumpy statement of fact. “I’m not good at lie-ins,” she replied a little sheepishly, forcing her hands to still. “And I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry?”<br/>“I am sleepy.” came the grumbled reply, and then a moment later “...and I am also thirsty.”<br/>	She watched as Szae uncoiled herself, sleep-clouded eyes nonetheless glowing softly as she started to roll over. Started, being the operative word. Sunny had to choke back a laugh as she moved, tangled herself in the blankets, pulled them almost entirely off of her, and then finally came to a settle in the middle of the bed. Clearly, she had intended on retreiving one of the ever-present bottles from her nightstand, but had been defeated by the unrelenting assault of the Cool Side Of The Pillow.<br/>	She sighed dramatically, but couldn’t bring herself to disturb her love yet again. Shaking her head and shivering a little in the cool air of the apartment, she snatched up the nearest item of clothing she could find (One of Szae’s blouses, incidentally), and quietly stepped out of the room.</p>
<p>	Szae looked so content when she returned, she almost decided to let her continue sleeping. Almost. Setting the tray on a nearby pile of stable enough books, Sunny took a moment to just take in the sight of her again; burritoed in blankets, only a horn and a whisp of hair sticking out. And then clapped her hands.<br/>“Right! I’ve been more’n generous, it’s officially time to wake up an’ pay attention to me.”<br/>	When this illicited little more than a grunt, a wicked grin spread across her face. “A’right, you asked for it,” and she pounced. Crashing onto the bed, she started to laugh as she fought to claw the blankets from a shrieking Szae, practically rolling over each other before she finally managed to wrench them free, and triumphantly placed a wet kiss on her cheek. “I told ya! I don’t do lie-ins! I gave you like two extra hours already!”<br/>	Her gambit might have ended in disaster, had she not come prepared. As soon as Szae pushed her away, straightening in preperation for whatever revenge she had planned, she suddenly stopped. A look of sheer confusion crossed her features, followed by the faintest hint of a smile. Kneeling in front of her, wearing the sweetest smile she had ever witnessed on the rough, scarred merc, Sunny presented her with a tray of fresh scrambled eggs and toast. “What,” she blinked, an adorable flush creeping across her cheeks, “I told ya I was hungry, an’ I didn’t want to be rude.”<br/>“You used all my egg.”<br/>“Do you not want breakfast in bed?”<br/>“You realise. Your ‘bad boy’ reputation is now shattered.”<br/>“I think I can live with it. Now shut up and eat your eggs, i’m starving.”</p>
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